Daily Archives: February 14, 2014

A Complaint Has Been Filed

Oh dear.  I am so stressed and distressed about this.  My sister has called the Patient Rep at Hospital #1 and filed a complaint against Dr. Sweetie.  She’s saying that:  a) Dr. Sweetie should not have been giving me ECT treatments while I was still on Topamax and Trileptal, and b) Dr. Sweetie should not have continued to give me ECT treatments when I was showing no progress (He gave me 16 treatments and had #17 scheduled when my family intervened and cut off the ECT).

I’m sure my sister is correct in her assertions, but you KNOW how I feel about Dr. Sweetie so this is just agonizing to me!  I keep trying to picture him getting notified that a complaint has been filed.  It can’t be good.  Will he know who filed the complaint?  I don’t know.  Probably.  He’ll need to be able to respond to the complaint.

The whole mess has left me with a scared stomach.  Add to that the fact that I need to go to Hospital #1 for bloodwork today.  What are the chances that I will run in to Dr. Sweetie?  Very low I hope.

So I’m off for my bloodwork and an appointment with Dr. Drugs.  Happy VD!  BPOF over and OUT!


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Depressed, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar ECT, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

I Did a Guest Post!

I have had the honor of writing a guest post/interview over at Bipolar, Unemployed, and Lost — give it a read!

You’re Just Like Me: Raeyn from The Bipolar Blogger Network
http://insideabipolarhead.wordpress.com/2014/02/14/your-just-like-me-raeyn-from-the-bipolar-blogger-network/

<3

The post I Did a Guest Post! appeared first on The Scarlet B.

2nd shot in the butt, and my great grandpa

Hey, I got a shot in the butt today, does that mean I’m going to fall in love?

Woke up a tad nervous today. Stayed over at Brandon’s for two days. Played D&D Wednesday, I was the only one that didn’t get knocked out and go into con damage. Everyone lived, fortunately. Unfortunately the cleric went into con first, so we had no healer. The rogue took the wand, and stabilized her. She was stable, but we didn’t know. When you go into con, you make your rolls a secret until you stabilize, or die. Then you announce it after so many rounds. Then the gunslinger went into con, he stabilized, then the rogue did, he stabilized. Good die rolls guys! I kept panicking because of the demons (dogs) we were fighting. Bad die rolls! I kept shooting them and rolling bad damage. I did 3 times and couldn’t get over 10 damage, and they had ONE POINT LEFT to die. My minimum damage is 7 with my ivory comp. longbow. Shit die rolls, I tells ya. The rogue eventually crit’d them and killed the last one. He got his astrological tattoo, we escaped where we were, left the town, and called the game.

baddice

JUST ROLL RIGHT!

pathfinder

Typical Pathfinder setting, around the table

Envy was fun. As usual. Brandon gave the bartender, Enzo a rose and almost kissed Brandon, which would have been awesome, but they hugged instead. I was flirting with his other bartender, who is gay, but oh well. Enzo was like “Do you like him? He’s soooo cute”. No chance for me. :)

envy

I got the shot today. The poor receptionists were getting slammed, so I let them take calls while I waited. She was really nice (sometimes she gets a bit snappy, but when I said “Oh, busy day eh?” she vented a bit, and I smiled and said “Hope it slow downs, and it IS Friday!” and she said “Thankfully!”) and I waited for about 5 min in the waiting room watching a woman knit a gorgeous shawl.. I wanted to comment on it, but she was talking to the person she was with, so I opened my phone and immediately got called in.

waitingroom

Dr B was in a funny mood. He was really nice, as usual. We were in the “needle room”, and even with the door closed, could hear the waiting room. The office manager was calling people into rooms and kept yelling “Mrs. X? Mrs. X? DO YOU HAVE YOUR HEARING AID ON?” and he’d start laughing, and then I would too, as he was preparing the shot. He goes “Do you have refills on this?” and I was like “Check the bottle” (they put the vials in a Rx script bottle) and he laughed and goes “Oh, ya! duh!” and goes “Yea, you’ve got 8 more vials”. Then I said, “Yea, my great grandpa, at 97 wouldn’t wear a hearing aid. Said they were ‘for old people’” and Dr B was laughing.

hearingaid

“He was 97?!” “Yea, he outlived 3 wives” “Holy crap!” “Yup. Lived in a cottage until 2 weeks before he died.” “WOW”. “Hunted his own food, too” “That’s amazing. He must have been healthy.” “He smoked, drank, and chewed tobacco! Also had diabetes and leukaemia” “Wow, what a story”

mooseburger

He gave me the shot in my “bum” (I’m waiting for the day he says “rump” because I will never stop laughing at that) and it was a bit worse than the first time, but really not that painful.. It stung a bit more, I had been focusing on my breathing, I felt the needle sting, then a bit of pressure at the end, because Piportil is suspended in sesame oil, and is thick (hence using a 21 gauge needle, most shots are given with a 25 gauge needle, as the needle gauge gets higher, the needle gets smaller, so for comparison, an 8 gauge needle is HUGE. Technically, using a 21 gauge needle, the shot is less painful for this injection because the Piportil is out with less force, and it makes it easier on the body. I had a nurse give it to me with a 25 gauge needle once, she thought it would make it less painful. Long story short: It didn’t) so there’s usually some pressure from the injection itself. It wasn’t bad.

inject

(Not me)

He checked to make sure it wasn’t bleeding, the pain was loooong gone, asked how the appt with Dr N, my pdoc, went, if he was still taking me on in the other city, and when. I said in May, and that he’d be my sorta psychiatrist until then if he was okay with it, which he is. Dr N likes Dr B, and vice versa, I mean, I have the refills from Dr N, but if something goes wrong, Dr B can handle it. He already did, by starting the Piportil. I said Dr N was fine with the Piportil, said Dr B made a good choice, was fine with the doses, etc. He wished me a Happy Valentines Day, and I left, kinda chuckling, so was he, not in any pain, forgetting to steal any candy.

fillneedle

He fills the syringe with one of these and then injects with an actual needle.

It avoids needle sticks and stuff.

needlecover

Needle cover.

I love when Dr B is in those moods.. He’s got a great sense of humour, and I was 100% at ease, forgot about any anxiety. “Just a quick shot in the bum..” “Yea, I know” “Yea, just making sure!” *poke* Everyone needs a GP like him. Even when he’s in a more serious mood, he’s fantastic. He knows when to use humour, when to be serious.. great bedside manner.. So shocking to find someone like that in this city.

cartoonneedle

Sometimes what I feel like. But it’s not that bad. The needles bigger though. :P

So now, my butt feels fine, it tingled a bit. Like “Hey, what are you doing to me?” LOL. I was sedated for about an hour, 1/2 hour after. I laid in bed and just chilled, got up, took my Ritalin (I don’t take it if I’m even a bit anxious, because it can make me more anxious) and did computer stuff.. I got some more wool last night, for a project for a special someone.. I just need to free my 90 peg loom.

Ahh, great grandpa.. he was a great man.. fed me many moose-burgers. He hunted his own food. We often had a giant freezer full of moose or deer in our cellar at my parents. He outlived 3 wives. WOW. 97. He never wore a hearing aid, and had so little hearing, he could only hear men (you lose higher frequencies, so womens voices, first) so my dad and grandpa would have to yell at him. That got him a private room at the hospital. His last day, we brought him fresh strawberries (he loved them) and he ate them, and died later. Peacefully, no morphine or IV or anything. Probably just said “I’m 97, I outlived 3 wives, I better leave now!”

strawberries

In Heaven there’s no husbands and wives.. he probably lived so long to avoid going there to 3 pissed off women waiting for him!

fridayforme

 

My Friday cocktail hour.

You’re Just Like Me: Raeyn from The Bipolar Blogger Network

This week my guest blogger is Raeyn, the main person behind the great site The Bipolar Blogger Network! I love her because she so open about her illness on her blog and below. Its nice to see  another one of us helping and healing others with their openness. HEY RAEYN!!…

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So you have a mental illness… Which one?

The only one diagnosed so far is Bipolar II disorder, rapid cycling style (aww yiss). While I feel there are other sub-issues, my psychiatrist doesn’t want us to get ahead of ourselves.

When were you diagnosed, and how old were you?

I initially came to a diagnosis just before my 29th birthday. But the hospital lost all my paperwork, said I’d never attended any appointments (!!!), and it took me another year to pluck up the courage. I got handed back to the same dingus who said there was nothing wrong with me when I forced the issue, so it wasn’t until just after my 30th birthday that I got my official diagnosis. That was February 2012, so I’m very new to being ‘officially’ bipolar!

How do you cope with your mental illness?

Knowing was a huge thing for me. Growing up poor in America meant we had no health care. Being in the Air Force in a job with a top secret clearance meant I couldn’t have a mental health disorder and keep my clearance, so I drank a lot instead. So yes, knowing — that was the first thing to help me cope. It enabled me to validate my broken brainedness after long years of being treated like I was some sort of hysterical drama queen. Being able to actually get medicated was the huge next step; it’s wonderful when the little nagging hateful voices (not the psychosis sort of voices, mind) are shut off and not able to drag you back in the muck, and to have the rough edges smoothed over. Otherwise, I do as I ever did — I craft, I write, I socialize as my spoons permit me. I’ve been applying CBT to myself since I was a teenager, so I’d kept myself limping along for a long time. Being able to do more than limp… glorious.

What are 3 words that you would describe how your illness makes you feel?

Annoyed, vulnerable, exhausted.

What are some ways you relax from your illness?

Relaxing… I’ve heard of this concept. *chuckles* It’s not something I’m terribly good at, as one of my main coping mechanisms of yesteryear was to DO ALL THE THINGS!! so that I was too distracted to let the depression side of bipolar kill me. I’m slowly figuring out how to be kinder to myself and slower going, so it’s fairer to say — what do I enjoy doing to keep me busy? I knit and crochet, I play video games, and I try to write a little bit every day, even if it’s just journalling. I socialize with my friends online, which is very spoon-friendly for the exhausted introvert sort.

What is some advice you would give to your fellow soldiers fighting this fight?

Do get involved in blogging communities, whether it’s just reading other peoples’ blogs, or communal blogging, or writing your own. For many of us, this is certainly self-therapy on all accounts. Getting out our stories, and seeing the stories of others is a constant positive reminder that none of us are alone. While our individual struggles are unique to ourselves, we have our struggles in common and can lovingly support each other because we can appreciate what each other are going through. If you can stand forums, then that’s probably always good too; just having some sort of community support of a nature that best suits the individual is truly a key factor in staying healthy. For some, it’s going to a physical group for therapy, for others… well. Really, just don’t isolate if you can help it. I know that’s hard when our brains are so often lying to us about everything.

Do you have any books, websites, writers, shows, music, ETC that has helped you cope that you like to share?

I’m the main person behind The Bipolar Blogger Network, so I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that as a resource. I definitely make a point to look for new-to-me blogs via WordPress.com’s tag search when I’m feeling human enough to consider looking for new people to engage with, and sometimes I’ll just google around to find other bloggers (though, I’ll admit, I feel most at home with the WordPress folk). Mainly, I just try to keep as busy as chronic fatigue will let me, which means lots of desk-based activity (most of which I’ve already covered, hee hee).

Tell us your blog or how we can keep in contact with you?

Blog-wise, I can be found at The Scarlet B. There’s a contact form on the website that comes right to my email box if anyone wants to message me specifically, and an oft-neglected Twitter account as well. Warning: contact at your own risk, ’cause I do get rather chatty!

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She Goes By Moonlight



I was determined to get up and out at 5am to grab my free reward coffee this morning. I didn't need an alarm. I woke up so many damn times I can't even count. After throwing on a little workout outfit and my tennies, I slipped outside alone, by moonlight in a light drizzle of rain. There were 3 people sleeping on porches of buildings along the way. It was good to see that they were at least sheltered from the rain.

The moon was gorgeous, and it just covered with clouds before I could get a pic of it.

Starbucks was like a 5am sausage lonely hearts club party. Almost all of the patrons, who were all men, stared at me. They had the look of abandoned puppies in their eyes. I was the only female in the place. After I grabbed my stuff and left, I saw the moon again and realized that it was as if I was on auto-pilot most of the time, and how easy it had been for me to get outside alone - in the dark and drizzling rain.

I practically bounced along on the sidewalk all the way home to mindless, happy music. My anxiety level had been close to nil, and on no meds. Insane!

Just inside the doors, on top of the mailboxes, was a bunch of gorgeous rejected red roses, in perfect shape, pushed into the corner. 

A good start to what is usually a trying day. I wish the sun wouldn't come up.

Gripes and Grumbles

WARNING: If you’re not in the mood for a bitch session, please come back tomorrow night after I’ve had a chance to see Dr. Awesomesauce and get all nice and settled down again. Otherwise, bear with me because I’ve enjoyed all of this week I can stand.

Speaking of standing—or rather, NOT standing—I’ve been extraordinarily accident-prone this week. First I had the rear-end collision on Monday (which is turning out to be a gold-plated pain in the ass) and sprained my toe, then fell twice in the snow. Naturally, I’m a shade unsteady on my feet with this special walking shoe, especially at 5:30 in the morning while going downstairs, and I fell again—this time on the stairs with hot coffee in my hand. Luckily I only broke a fingernail and sustained a very minor sprain to my ring finger, but that’s three falls in a matter of four days. This damned right foot is gonna be the death of me, if the snow and ice don’t get me first.

Being in pain and having my sleep patterns suddenly go to hell in a handbasket have done little for my disposition, which can best be described as prickly. I’ve been itchy and irritable, sarcastic and sassy, so I’ve really been lucky to have an empathetic partner at work this week. He’s a former ER nurse and is bitter and jaded by trade, so he’s been the perfect guy to bounce my gripes off of (and yeah, I know that’s a grievous example of bad grammar, but guess what? I’m about half past give-a-shit right now).

The bitch of it is, I really don’t know WHERE this came from. Sure I’m worried about Will and the complications that have arisen with his cancer, and I’m worried about whether I can continue in my job if things go sideways with him. Then of course I worry about what the hell ELSE I can do if it doesn’t work out because I’m putting everything I have into this. I hate it that I don’t have a Plan B. But there’s no time even to think about developing one because things are moving so fast in my life right now that I can barely stop long enough to catch my breath. Add in poor quality sleep and a little mixed hypomania for good measure, and I feel like this:

BP cat

OK, I can’t really discount the BP entirely because I’m not sleeping well and have been a little…..well…..hypomanic. So there. I admit it. I’ve been a little better the past couple of days because I took the Vitamin Z for a few nights, but it’s not like I can LIVE on the stuff. And that’s the other thing that’s royally pissing me off: why can’t I be stable for longer than two months?? The mood swings are definitely not as bad as they used to be, but that’s because I’ve gotten better at dealing with them before they become full-blown clusterfucks that get me into trouble.

But what I want is to NOT HAVE them, at least not every damn time I turn around. I don’t have TIME for this shit.  I’m on a lot of medication already, and I’ve worked hard to stick to a schedule for going to bed and waking up. Why aren’t these measures enough to keep me on an even keel? And why can’t I just go through normal, everyday life crap like everybody else? Inquiring minds want to know…..


Books

I am a steadfast supporter of escapism – particularly when said escapism is in the form of books. I believe there are very few situations that are so dire that a book cannot provide a convenient escape route. When fighting depression, books can allow you to distance yourself from your own life while exerting a minimal amount of energy.
I had the privilege of having some great friends while I was growing up. Some of my best friends came from books. Junie B. Jones, Harry Potter, Charlotte and Wilbur, Charlie and Willy Wonka, Peter Rabbit, Curious George, Laura and Mary Ingalls, all of the Boxcar Children, the Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, Matilda, Milo and his tollbooth… The list has only grown the more I read. It’s hard to be lonely when you’re enjoying an adventure with a friend.
I found a quote while reading Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales this week for British Literature Before 1798 that resonated with me.

For him was levere have at his beddes heed
Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed,
Of Aristotle and his philosophye,
Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrye.

I treasure my books. To me, they represent more than just journeys that don’t involve my mental illness. They represent the chance to live another life for a few hours, to see the world (or another world, for that matter) through the eyes of someone else. Reading can make us aware of ways of life that are not normally ours.
When I chose to change my major to English, I said yes to more reading. Last semester, I barely read at all. During these last two weeks, I’ve read more than I read in the last year. I want to share my books with you, because I think they have healing powers. I think they are magical, and if I didn’t worry about legal ramifications, I would promise you that they would change your life. 
So from now on, I’ll be blogging about books every so often. Some books will be about mental illness, but some won’t. The direction of these posts has yet to be completely decided, so if you have any ideas, feel free to leave a comment!
Who are some of your favorite friends from reading? What are your favorite books?

No Return To Work On Monday, YAY!!

Well I was planning on returning to work this coming Monday, but if I were to go to part-time so I can attend the DBT IOP, my employer said I’d be ineligible for health care benefits.  So dumb.  So, in order to attend the DBT and retain my benefits, I have to extend my Leave of Absence for another nine weeks.  Unreal, huh?  I don’t get their rules but I have to say I am ecstatic to prolong my LOA – you know how I feel about that damn job!

My sister brought up an interesting issue today that I don’t necessarily love.  Since my suicide plan involves taking an overdose and then sitting in my running car in the garage, Sister wants me to give up all of my old medication stockpiles.  I know it makes perfect sense to get rid of the old unused meds,  but I feel strangely resistant.  I’m going to suck it up and do the right thing.  Let Sister dispose of my old pills :)

On that note, hey everybody, Happy VD!!!


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Crazy, Bipolar Depressed, Bipolar Disorder, I do NOT love my job, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, DBT, Hope, Humor, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

To My Readers

Dearest Readers, how can I ever hope to express my gratitude for the love and support you have given me during these hard times?  Truly, I don’t know what I would do without you.  Your words of comfort and encouragement have soothed my soul.  The stories of your own experiences with your aged parents have encouraged and strengthened me.

May you all be blessed with healing according to your needs, peace of mind, and good friends–whether “in the flesh” or here, in our wonderful Mental Health Blogger community (and everybody else too)!

Much love,

Laura